


GladNoct- Porcelain Emotions

by My_Sweet_Melancholy



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: AU Where Gladiolus Has Long Hair Instead Of Just A Mullet, BSDM, If You Don't Really Give Two Shits, M/M, Noctis Is A Good Sub, Noctis Isn't In A Wheelchair In His Childhood, Praise Kink, Self Confidence Issues, Spoilers, Then Come On In
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 11:14:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9179101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Sweet_Melancholy/pseuds/My_Sweet_Melancholy
Summary: Noctis has been putting a mask on his personality ever since Ignis and Prompto came around, and ever since his father died, the mask got thicker, and it was replaced with steel instead of porcelain. And worse, Gladiolus finds that Noctis has nightmares after Luna died.





	

Everyone was asleep, except for the always-remaining-diligent Gladiolus. He hasn't gotten sleep because of said diligence, and now it's getting to him. He sees strange shadows that aren't supposed to be there out of the corners of his eyes, he's surprised that mirrors don't crack at the mere sight of him. He has pale sticky skin, practically soaked in sweat, his hair is greasy, and did he even need to mention the deep bags under his eyes? He looked like a skull with hair and buff arms. So, with that morbid thought in his head, he took a new pair of clothes, and walked to the nearest stream to wash off... Everything. Dirt, blood, sweat and especially, Noctis' surprisingly sugar sweet scent. He didn't even smell like sugar, he smalt like... Peaches. 'Oddly feminine,' Gladiolus thought, 'but lovely nonetheless," And if Gladiolus didn't like Noctis' scent, then he wouldn't have a hard erection that was being painfully caged by the confines of his jeans and boxers. Noctis fell ontop of him today while a cave they were exploring collapsed, thankfully they found another exit. 

Also, another reason for the bath. 

Gladiolus liked cold water better than warm water, he was taught to always stay awake and have his senses sharp twenty four seven if danger arises, hot water seemed to suffocate Gladiolus, and one of his biggest fears was claustrophobia. That's why whenever the gang tried to get him in a hot spring or sauna, he always politely declined and went to a nearby pool or stream that was nice and cold. He could see it on Noctis' face, the displeasure in his eyes that no one else noticed, he didn't like warm or cold water, he just liked room temperature or lukewarm if he was feeling adventurous, but he didn't have the luxuries of being a prince in a palace, so instead of politely declining and raising suspicion of Gladiolus and himself being together, he just put up with it. And even though Gladiolus was six years older than Noctis, he was secretly proud that Gladiolus did more raising than the actual king. He taught Noctis how to fight, how to be disciplined, how to read, how to write, the servants and teachers in Noctis' school took all of the credit, but Gladiolus would have done something about it if he actually minded. He wanted to keep that small satisfaction, that feeling of pride all to himself.

What he didn't teach Noctis is love, and more importantly, his love for the prince. That feeling of pride vanished and was replaced with anger. 

Presently, he just took off his shirt, and started with his pants. He knew that it was a delicate situation, his dick was larger than normal, he knew that, and with the bigger size meant more sensitivity. When he took off his boxers, it felt like he was jerking himself off with sandpaper, but the risk was worth the reward, so when he completely took off his underwear, he felt better and awake. 

He stepped into the shallow stream, the water just reaching the distinct V-line of his body. His hot erection in the cold water didn't feel so nice, but he forced the rest of his body under the water, he felt pain before. And this wasn't pain, it was just not comfortable. Gladiolus got to work by scrubbing himself down until his skin was red, he washed his hair so roughly that when he took his hands away, he saw some dark brown hairs stuck on his skin. He sighed, he was only gone for a good ten minutes. He told himself to relax, but he stayed exactly like he was, tense, blushing and lips abused from teeth clenching onto them too tightly. 

He didn't tweak his nipples or moan immediately like a bitch in heat, but when he stroked himself to his head, he let out his first grunt. He was standing and leaning on the wall of the river, his left hand supporting his stance, his right hand playing with his cock, it being half submerged in the icy cold water, so his senses were diluted and on fire at the same time. He loved that feeling. He imagined pulling Noctis’ hair, putting his hands over his skin, smelling his sweet scent, tasting his cum and sweat and tears and flesh. He wanted to hear Noctis scream his name, to hear him moan and cry and beg. 

And as much as he wanted to take his time, it’s been fifteen minutes and he was sure that if anyone woke up, they’d be worried. So, when he came, he put a hand over his mouth to muffle whatever came out of his mouth, and his cum was washed away with the gently flowing stream of clear water. He got out of the river, dried himself off, and he began his journey back to the camp where the stars were bright and the fire warm. 

As Gladiolus walked, he wondered about many things. Noctis’ behaviour has changed ever since he met Ignis and Prompto, and even more when his father died, and it was needless to say that he was even more witty and sarcastic and smug when the Lady Lunafreya died. This was not his Noctis. The Noctis he sparred with, the one he taught to read and write and practice self discipline was quiet and serious and kind, not loud and joking and selfish. And on the inside, it was killing Gladiolus, seeing his first love transition from such an angel to a demon, and in a short amount of time, too. ‘Maybe that’s one of the reasons why he changed so much,’ Gladiolus thought to himself, ‘he was given no time to grieve, and the world was expected from him too. I guess that’s why he shut down.’ 

Gladiolus’ tent was beside Noctis’, it was kind of the natural order of things. Ignis and Prompto were good friends, but Ignis also urged Gladiolus to set his tent up by Noctis’ when they first camped out in the wilderness. Not just because Gladiolus was Noctis’ shield, and if danger made itself apparent when they were sleeping he would be the first one awake, but Ignis also saw that Gladiolus was head over heels for his little prince, same for Noctis, and Ignis saw them together. All Ignis could do is hope. 

Ignis was an observer, and he saw when Gladiolus ruffled Noctis’ hair or gave the prince a compliment, Noctis’ eyes quietly sparkled, his genuine smile subtle but still there. And when Noctis stuck close to Gladiolus, or when they were in the Regalia and Noctis went to sleep, only to lean on Gladiolus’ arm the whole ride, Gladiolus would look down, smile a bit, and have his chest slightly puffed in pride, a blush that was barely there would claw it’s way on the bigger man’s cheeks, a very rare sight to see him happy like that. Prompto was too engrossed in his photography to even notice the blatant signs of affection, but Ignis had nothing to distract him, and he would have it no other way. He thought that they would be very cute together. 

Gladiolus snuck into his tent with his dirty clothes in hand, his little space smelling like whiskey and musk. He almost instantly fell asleep, but his night was riddled with dreams of Noctis, and no, they weren’t the dirty kind. The first one was of him and Noctis in the Regalia, Ignis and Prompto nowhere to be found. “Why did you have to leave, Gladdy?” And when Gladiolus blinked, he opened his eyes to see that he was no longer in the Regalia, and he was in the palace of Insomnia, in the prince’s bedroom. He was reading to him, it was some weird book, and he noticed that the hands that were flipping the book’s pages were not his hands. They were Luna’s hands. 

The next dreams were blurry when he woke up, but the first one seemed to burn itself into Gladiolus’ memory, and he was disturbed when his thoughts became coherent. He panicked when he woke in his tent, he put his hands over his eyes and tried to breathe normally, but they came out shallow and in his throat. He tried to make sense of the dream he remembered, and he came up with one conclusion:

He wished that he was someone that he wasn’t, just so he could have his Noctis, and when he changed for Noctis’ sake, it turned out that he died anyways, hence making Noctis ask the question of why he left. And he also made sense that Noctis loved Luna, not him, and was grieving over Luna. And no matter how much he tried to change himself for the love of his life, that love would never be returned. 

But Gladiolus was taught not to dwell on dreams, they were foolish and inconsistent in his father’s eyes, and they lead you to places where you weren’t supposed to be. He dusted his shoulders off, and went on with his day, but that dream kept gnawing at him, silently making his day miserable. And maybe it was also the fact that Gladiolus didn’t regularly remember dreams, and he took it as a sign because this one was so memorable. But eventually, Gladiolus calmed down enough to get his bearings straight and keep on protecting his prince… No, he couldn’t call Noctis his little prince anymore, he had to call Noctis his king now, out of respect, but whether Gladiolus liked it or not, he would always see Noctis as his little prince, the one he raised, the first one he loved. 

The only one he will ever love. 

It was nearing the evening, the blue sky just starting to turn into a crisp orange as everyone rode inside the Regalia. Wind blew through everyone’s hair, and Noctis was dozing off. No one really knew this except Gladiolus, but Noctis actually had Insomnia, and the pair both knew that Noctis would undergo even more teasing if the rest of the gang actually knew, since he was born in a town called Insomnia, and had, coincidentally, the condition itself. So when Noctis was in his tent, he wasn’t sleeping. He was just staring boredly, eavesdropping on every conversation he could, so when Prompto tried to talk behind Noctis’ back to Ignis and Gladiolus, Ignis could join in on the conversation, but Gladiolus kept his mouth shut. He tried not to stab the both of them in their sleep. 

And as Noctis leaned on Gladiolus’ shoulder, he remembered a day when they were still kids, Noctis was six and Gladiolus was twelve. Gladiolus loved to dwell on memories when the times were much simpler, much sweeter, when time moved so slowly in comparison to now. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Noctis had trouble sleeping. That was a fact, the Insomnia started when he was four and it’s been hell in Noctis’ father’s eyes, but Gladiolus pounced at every opportunity to be kind and loving to Noctis, to be the brother, the mentor that his father would never become. And while Gladiolus was reading his books, he heard a very quiet knock on his door, so Gladiolus grabbed his sword and tied it to his belt while he opened the door. He expected Imperial troops, he expected chaos and havoc, but what he got was a crying Noctis. He held his blanket in one hand and was trying to dry his tears with the other, and he was hanging his head down in shame as if he did something terribly wrong.

“I-I’m sorry Gladdy, but I-I couldn’t sleep,” And at that point, Gladiolus knew the drill, sleep while Noctis stayed awake in his protective arms. Noctis said that it was enough for him, but Gladiolus always felt so guilty that he couldn’t help his best friend. But tonight, he wanted to try something different, to get Noctis to finally drift off into sleep, and to lift some of the guilt off of his own shoulders. 

“Sit on the bed, Noctie. I’m going to make you some tea, alright?” Gladiolus said in a very gentle manner, as he looked down at Noctis. But before he even moved an inch away from Noctis, he made sure to wipe his tears away and crouch down to kiss his forehead. 

And as he went to the kitchen, he couldn’t help but try to stifle a chuckle at the nicknames they’ve made for each other, and even though they have been calling the other their nickname for years, Gladiolus thought how incredibly cute they were. Childish, his father would scold if he ever found out, but Gladiolus would still think that they were cute. (And even to this present day, when they are alone, Noctis calls Gladiolus “Gladdy,” and Gladiolus calls Noctis “Noctie,” and it made Gladiolus have a joy in his heart, that maybe there was some trace of the old Noctis left, something in the rubble to salvage). 

Gladiolus didn’t cook- But he made a damn good tea when the opportunity presented itself. He used the finest herbs and spices, some were imported from the very edges of the world, others were locally grown, but one thing for sure was that they were the most royal spices, and Gladiolus would hate himself if he ever wanted it any other way. Gladiolus’ room had a kitchen, a bathroom, a patio and a small but comfy library. Royal guards deserved royal rooms, Gladiolus guessed, but he would be fine if he had to live in a shack, he just wanted to see his Noctis. 

When he set the tea on the bedside table near Noctis, he quickly went to his library to pick out a book of Noctis’ favourite poems. They were very deep poems about love and loss and heartbreak and disease, with the occasional sexual poem, but Gladiolus made sure to tear those pages out so he didn’t accidentally read them to young Noctis. And one day, Gladiolus asked why the prince liked that book so much, and the shield was hoping to the Gods that Noctis didn’t understand what those poems meant, and thankfully, the little prince did not. He responded with, “I just like the way you speak, Gladdy,” If he can recall correctly, they were eating together on the grand castle balcony that gave them an eagle eye’s view of almost the whole front of the city. It was magnificent. 

When he came back from the library, Gladiolus saw that the tea was gone. He chuckled to himself, before he ruffled Noctis’ hair and unstrapped the sword by his waist, and then he went under his blankets, Noctis soon following his actions. Noctis didn’t think at that moment, he acted, and he cuddled up to Gladiolus, burying his head in the older boy’s chest, forcing Gladiolus to completely lay sideways while he looked at the book in a awkward angle. ‘Oh well,’ Gladiolus thought, ‘I can make due for a night, especially for this little prince,’

And Gladiolus started to read until he was sure that Noctis was asleep, the younger boy looked so peaceful when Gladiolus made space to look down. But that face quickly vanished as Noctis forced himself to cuddle closer to Gladiolus, even Noctis’ subconscious was clingy. 

He closed the book and wrapped his arms around the smaller boy. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The memory faded to black as Gladiolus went to sleep too, his head resting on top of Noctis’, the stars beginning to show themselves, Prompto taking pictures of them while they slept. 

“You know, they aren’t going to like it if they found those pictures,” Ignis mumbled, loud enough for Prompto to hear, but still quiet enough so it wouldn’t disturb the sleeping pair in the back seat. 

“That’s why I’m adding this to my private collection,” Prompto replied.


End file.
